


Best Foes Forever

by EldritchSandwich



Series: DC United [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe, DCU
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Explicit Language, Fluffy Sandwich, Gen, Humor, I Don't Even Know, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: Harley has a history of over-analyzing this kind of thing.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Series: DC United [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964518
Comments: 12
Kudos: 176





	Best Foes Forever

"Red?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think Roman likes me?"

Poison Ivy blinked and rolled over in bed to face her very awake human heat lamp. "Who?" She was still a little groggy...one of the pets, maybe? She could never keep track of them all.

"Roman Sionis. You know, the Black Mask."

Ivy blinked harder. "What...I don't know. Why do you care what Black Mask thinks all of a sudden?"

"Well, I went and saw that new movie they made about us..."

"Oh, Jesus, Harl..."

"...and he just really hates me, ya know? And it's just got me wondering." Harley sat up, the springs of the scavenged mattress squeaking in her wake. "Should I call him? I should call him."

"What? Harley, it's two in the morning..."

"It'll just take a second..."

"He's asleep."

"Pfft, this is Gotham," Harley said as she grabbed her phone from the nightstand, "nobody actually sleeps."

Ivy pulled herself out of bed and headed for the kitchen with a sigh. "Fucking tell me about it."

* * *

"Uh...Mr. Sionis, sir?"

Roman Sionis groaned and rolled over in bed, blindly groping for the intercom. "Lydia, the next words out of your mouth had better be either very funny or very profitable, or I'm shoving a gun down your throat."

He could hear his assistant gulp over the intercom. "Y...yes, sir. It's...sir, I've got Harley Quinn on the line."

He blinked. "Harley Quinn? As in Joker's Harley Quinn?"

"Yes sir."

"What time is it?"

"Two seventeen, sir."

"Why are you still in the office?"

"Um, well...you said if I didn't have the Hamilton land paperwork ready for you when you woke up you'd scoop out my—"

"Right, right." He sat up with a sigh. "Okay, put her through. Then...I don't know, go home to your...you're married, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go home to that."

"Yes, sir. Here's Harley Quinn for you, sir."

The phone buzzed, and he picked it up as he rubbed his stinging eyes. "Harley Quinn. What's this about?"

"Hey, Roman. So listen...you know that movie they made about us..."

"No spoilers, I'm seeing it this weekend."

"No, no spoilers! I just, I gotta ask. You don't...hate me, right?"

"Huh?"

"Like, in the movie. The way they wrote it, it's just, you really seem to hate my guts, and things get real bad there, and I was just thinking..."

"Harley, I can assure you I have no strong feelings for you one way or the other."

"Oh. Oh, well great! Good. I mean, thanks. Sorry to bug ya!"

"Mm."

As the line went dead, he dropped his face back against the pillow with a sigh. Fucking Hollywood producers, he thought to himself. Never should have let them talk him into it.

* * *

The next time Roman Sionis opened his eyes—forty minutes later, according to the alarm clock—it was to the sound of the phone rather than the intercom. He grunted and pawed at it, finally managing to wedge it between his ear and the pillow. "What?"

"Hi, me again," the chipper voice on the other end said. "Sorry, I just gotta clarify something. When you said 'no strong feelings either way'...does that mean you got...you know, weak feelings? Or like, weak-to-moderate? And if so, would you describe them as weakly-to-moderately positive, or weakly-to-moderately negative?"

"Harley, fucking Christ, it's three in the fucking morning," he growled into the phone, to be met with a contrite hiss.

"Yeah, I know, I'm really sorry, you're bein' a real good sport about all this! It's just...would you say that—"

"Look, I got weakly positive feelings because I think it's funny how hard you kicked Joker's ass when you broke up. But it's rapidly becoming moderately negative because I'm trying to sleep and you're calling me at three o'clock in the fucking morning!"

"Okay, you know what, that's fair enough. I'll let you sleep."

"Thank you. Say hi to Ivy for me."

"Will do. G'night!"

"Good night."

* * *

The next time Roman Sionis looked at the alarm clock, it was definitely four twenty two, because he was glaring so hard at the numbers that if there were any justice in the world they'd spontaneously burst into flames. But as the ringing of his phone was quick to remind him, justice in Gotham was in pretty short fucking supply.

He didn't even bother saying anything when he picked up the phone. He was pretty sure he knew who it was.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up or nothing. It's just that you said that—"

He let out a feral wail as he slammed the phone down. Then slammed it down again. Then again. Then again and again and again and...

* * *

"Good morning, sir." Lydia stepped out of the elevator into her boss' penthouse office, coffee in hand. "I have your coffee here, and the Hamilton paperwork, and I just want to say thank you, sir, for letting me go home last night and not scooping—"

Black Mask screamed and launched himself from his desk, ripping his gun from its shoulder holster; Lydia screeched and curled into a ball as he began to fire, every bang making her flinch as she realized that this was it, this was how her employment with one of the city's most notorious gangsters was always destined to end, her mother was right, oh God why did her mother always have to be right...

When the shots abated, Lydia looked up from her miraculously un-ventilated body to Black Mask's desk. One entire corner of the marble surface had been blown away, as had the phone that, in her adrenaline-fueled haze, Lydia gradually realized hadn't even gotten off a full ring before he'd emptied a full clip into it.

As Black Mask sat back down, Lydia unsteadily regained her footing. Her boss didn't look at her.

"Lydia?"

"Yes, sir?" Her hands were shaking as she set the coffee cup down, making sure to avoid the now structurally unsound half of the desk.

Black Mask took a long, desperate pull from the latte—something Lydia had to wonder how he accomplished with his mask on—and then glared down at where the phone used to be with drooping, red-rimmed eyes.

"Put out a half a million bounty on Harley Fucking Quinn."


End file.
